Dublin
by Love Out Of Lust
Summary: Based on the upcoming spoilers for December, a one shot of Ste and Brendan in Dublin


It's been a while since you did this, but you know all the steps. You know what's going to happen from here.

It's like a slow kind of dance that consumes you both. You've been having this dance since you first kissed. Or maybe it was before then. Maybe it was as soon as you met him, that day in the club, when he was just some skinny little runt who you thought would remain a stranger.

Somehow he wormed his way in. Or maybe he didn't even do anything. Perhaps you made it all happen. Hiring him because he looked fucking delicious standing outside, telling you he had two kids to support, that boyish fringe making him look younger than his twenty one years.

It was frustrating, the way he wouldn't stop talking, that pouty red mouth talking to you like he didn't fear you. Like he had your number, and knew your game from the start.

A guy like Steven, you thought he'd be in and out of your life, an annoyance, albeit a beautiful one.

But then something happened. He smiled. He laughed that ridiculous laugh of his, that's like a fog horn, something that made you want to slam your lips against his just to get him to shut up.

You realised that he cared about stuff, the things that mattered. His family. That ex of his who was always sniffing around.

You saw from that scummy flat of his that he didn't own much, but he never stopped trying, working towards something.

There was something brave about him. Bold as fucking brass. He was a chancer, was Steven. You had heard rumours of a dodgy past. You didn't know the facts, but you guessed the talk was true.

That didn't make a difference to you. It only acted as something that brought you together. You felt...different to other people. There was something wrong with you, wasn't there? Like a stain.

Like you were a freak.

Sometimes he acted like he didn't belong anywhere either.

You figured that there was no one else you would rather be on the outside with than him.

Then he became laced in your thoughts, buried in your brain, and kissing him began to feel like poison, because it only led to bad places.

You never meant to hurt him, but it felt like there was nothing else you could do.

He couldn't want you, and his wide, bright, thickly lashed eyes staring at you like you were his whole world only suffocated you further.

You hated being in love with Steven Hay, and you hated being without him, and there really was no in between.

You watched him with his new life. Away from you, but just across the road. You'd stand on your balcony sometimes and look down at him and Douglas. Sometimes you thought that he saw you staring, and would purposefully ignore you, turning his back. You knew that you deserved that, but you wanted to tell him that this was all for him. The deli. The flat. That most days you thought your whole fucking life revolved around trying to make him smile.

And he always would. Just not at you.

You remember feeling with perfect clarity that he was gone forever. That you'd never feel his touch again.

_You took Steven away_

You couldn't face the wedding. Cheryl was going. Even Joel was attending as her plus one, although he stared at you with that puppy dog expression of his, as if asking for your permission.

You didn't get an invite. You had almost expected one in person from Douglas, coupled with a smirk and a few carefully chosen words about how Steven was now going to be his. Forever.

You didn't know what was worse. Sitting at home and staring at the ticking clock, knowing that it was going to happen at any moment, and imagining what the vows would be. Picturing the kiss. Or going, just to see Steven's face, and to try to tell him with yours that you loved him. That you would always love him, and that maybe you couldn't give him a ring or marriage, but you could give him something that you you once thought made him happy.

You could give him...you.

You decided at the last minute. You had opened your laptop, and brought the tickets. You didn't care about the cost, or what Cheryl would think when she saw your note on the kitchen table, knowing that you hadn't even said a proper goodbye.

It was nighttime when you arrived. You went straight to a pub, and didn't leave till closing time.

You watched as friends and family sat huddled around tables, ordering meals and already talking about the Christmas presents they were going to buy this year. You remembered last Christmas, where you had just come out of prison. How you felt like you'd be better off back inside, because the things you'd been dreaming of every night in your cell felt a million miles away, like they might not exist at all.

Then you remembered the Christmas before that, when you'd escaped back home. Where a boy had put his hand on yours, and told you he wanted a _relationship_, like that was something you could offer him. Like it didn't make you terrified just thinking about it.

You realised you hadn't ever really had a good Christmas.

You don't know how you made it back to the hotel you booked. You're surprised they didn't throw you out for the way you staggered up the stairs, no doubt waking everyone on the premises with your noise.

You'd collapsed on the bed, not bothering to even take your shoes off.

It had come into your head then. They'd be married by that time. They'd be in bed together, Douglas's hands all over Steven, worshipping him the way you once had.

Because he was someone to be worshipped. Maybe you'd realised too late.

The image had reverberated in your mind, and the next night you couldn't shut it off. You hadn't had enough to drink, not nearly enough. It was the only thing that could silence it all.

You rose from your bed, barely concentrating on what clothes you put on. You wore your jeans and your plain black top, and your leather jacket with the fleece lining. Joel had told you that you looked ridiculous in it, but you ignored the lad. You liked it.

It was cold outside, and you didn't know where to go. You headed for the pub again, but a set of lights caught your eye instead.

They were blinding after you had been accustomed to the darkness of the hotel room, and you squinted, trying to adjust.

Your feet moved forwards, and you saw what the lights were.

A bridge.

You'd been on it a dozen times. You didn't know how you couldn't have recognised it. But it had been years since you'd seen it like this in the dark, the lights shining brightly.

It wasn't vacate even at this time of night, and you tried to block out the people around you, looking down at the water instead.

You'd grown up in Dublin, but it had stopped feeling like home a long time ago. It was just a place now. Everyone you loved and wanted was back home. Even if not all of them wanted you back.

You thought you must have somehow fallen asleep, because he was suddenly standing there.

Steven.

You shook your head in an attempt to wake up. You blinked your eyes, willing them to stop playing tricks on you.

You hated how you couldn't get any peace, even in your dreams. Especially in your dreams. Your subconscious would be the most active at night, seemingly delighting in torturing you with visions of golden skin and slender, hairy legs. A coaxing voice that would speak your name in that distinctive accent of his.

_Brendunnn._

He spoke it then. Sadly, like he knew exactly what you were doing here. Why you'd run away, why you were always running.

You smiled, because if your mind was going to conjure up the image of Steven, then you figured you may as well enjoy it. You knew he would follow you everywhere through life, whether he was with Douglas or some other guy who you'd hate on principle.

There was no one else for you.

"You're here."

"Yeah, I'm here."

His voice sounded shaky, and he cleared it. You thought you saw tears in his eyes.

But that must have been your imagination, because Steven never cried in your dreams.

In your dreams, Steven only laughed. You made him laugh, and sweat, and swear, and move under you, you maneuvering your body so that you were as deep inside him as you could possibly be.

There wasn't any sadness or pain.

Then why did your chest feel so tight?

He moved closer to you, still looking uncertain.

"You went away," he whispered.

What did he expect? You couldn't stay. Not with what had happened that day.

"I had to."

"Mmm," he said, like he knew.

He came up close to you on the bridge. He lent against the railing where you were, and you sensed it then. You understood.

You weren't dreaming.

You felt the brush of his jacket against yours, and it felt too real. You could never achieve that same skin on skin contact in your sleep. You saw the actions and the movements, but you could never feel the touch.

It vibrated through you. That same thing that had always been there. That spark. That energy, that had only ever existed between the two of you.

You stared at him. You knew your eyes must have revealed the shock that you felt.

He swallowed, that Adam's apple of his bobbing up and down, and you felt his nervousness then.

This felt like the moment.

"What are you doing here, Steven?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Can't a guy take a holiday?"

Back to being defensive and detached. But you couldn't let yourself hope. Hope was dangerous for you. It always had been.

"I missed you, I guess."

You stared at him in bafflement. It had been his wedding day two days ago, and he missed you?

"What the fuck?"

He looked at you dead in the eyes.

"I missed you, Brendan. I heard you came here, and I decided I couldn't do this anymore."

"Do what?" You could feel your anxiety rising.

"Live without you. I tried it for a long time, and it got exhausting. So I've decided not to do that anymore."

You marvelled at his calmness. He talked like he was reading something off a restaurant menu.

"You're married." You didn't mean to state the obvious, but you felt the need to.

"No, I'm not."

You gripped the railings to give you some support.

"Steven, don't mess with me."

"I didn't get married, Brendan. I couldn't go through with it."

"Steven..."

He turned to face you, and it was there again. That boldness.

"I came here to tell you that I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you ever since you kissed me in that cellar I think. And it feels like most of my has been spent trying not to love you. But I don't want to fight it now."

He stepped even closer, so much that you could see every curve of his face, every line, every perfect contour.

"So what do you say?"

There are a lot of things you could have said. You could have told him how much you love him. How you would give your life for him. How you would have done, with that gun, with Walker. How you would kill Danny for him all over again, even if that's sick, and wrong, because the thought of him not being on this earth makes you want to slit your own wrists.

You could have told him how this last year has been hell without him. How every guy has just been a poor imitation, that you woke up every time expecting to find him in their place in the bed beside you.

But you looked at him, and you had a pretty good feeling that he knew all that already. That maybe he had known all that for a long time, since the day when you clung onto him in the street while your best friend lay dead on the pavement, and he was your lifeline.

There was really only one other way to seal this. Really only one other thing that had to be done.

You wrapped a hand around his face, cupping the soft skin, and brought him towards you.

The first taste was intoxicating. You were like a man taking a drink for the first time. His lips tasted as sweet as you remembered, and you felt his hot breath mix with your own. He laced his fingers through your hair, pulling your mouth closer to his, like this meant as much to him as it did to you.

You felt your back hit the railings, and you could have had him right there. Forget everyone else around you and fuck their opinions. Your hands grappled underneath his jacket, and he wriggled when he felt your cold fingers on him.

You knew that after five minutes with Steven, you'd be positivity infernal.

"Not here," he murmured, breaking away. "Is there someplace we can go?"

The walk back to the hotel was torturous. You ran along the streets, Steven overtaking you, staring back at you and laughing. You couldn't help but return his smile. He does that to you. He makes everything he's feeling be something you're feeling too.

The same dance, now.

You remove his jacket, and laugh together when the zip gets stuck halfway down. He strips you of your t-shirt, and gets to his knees when he unbuckles your jeans, staring up at you suggestively.

You want his mouth on you desperately. You remember the feeling of his lips on your cock only too well, and how good he is at creating a tight vacuum of heat, his spit soaking your cock while his hand grips the base for better leverage.

But you want to see him first, all of him, so you push him back onto the bed, and in one fluid motion he's naked, his clothes a heap on the floor. You don't intend to let him put them on ever again.

He stares at you, his eyes running over the solid expanse of your chest, at the dark hairs that lie there, untouched by a razor blade. You think you see him lick his lips as he continues his journey downwards with his eyes.

His focus shifts to your cock. It doesn't take much to get you hard, but you are insatiable tonight. He has barely laid his hands on you and you are already sporting a semi.

He parts his legs while he is looking at you, and you want to snort. Steven lost any shyness in the bedroom early on. You are almost surprised that he's not already fingering himself like he used to, when he wanted to coax you into fucking him.

You want to open him up first though. You know it's been a while since he had someone this big inside him, and you don't want to hurt the boy. You never want to hurt him again.

You have all night to explore this thing between you two. You'll be damned if your own impatience is going to lead you to fuck the lad before your mouth and tongue and hands have luxuriated over every available inch of him.

He grips the bed sheets, and you know he is waiting for this, that he'll soon resort to begging to get what he wants.

Part of you wants to hear it. You love it when he gets like that, placing demands on you, telling you where he wants you, and how. But tonight you don't want to play all those games. You want to give him what he's always wanted.

You walk over to him, so close that your dick is soon centimeters away from his face. He sticks out his tongue and licks at it like a kitten, short, teasing licks that he knows drive you crazy.

His hands remain on the bedcovers, and he makes no attempt to put you into his mouth.

It's your turn to beg now.

"Please, Steven."

He smiles that smile of his, and places his hands on you, bringing your dick into his mouth, and you almost buck from the pleasure it brings.

When you first taught him how to do this, you never expected that he would surpass you.

He deep throats you and you hiss, your eyes closing in wonderment at the sensation.

His hands cup themselves around the globes of your arse while he continues to move his head backwards and forwards, taking as much as you into his mouth as possible, and then gathering his breath back and releasing you.

You slowly rock into his mouth, and you think you could stay like this forever. You are floating far away from here, where there is no gravity and no limits, and Steven is with you.

You gently take his mouth away from your cock, and change positions so that you're lying back against the pillows on the bed.

He crawls over to you, and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips. You taste sour, and your tongue meets his, moving and rubbing together, dancing again.

His groin rubs against yours when he climbs on top of you, and he milks it for all it's worth, deliberately brushing himself over you again and again.

You should tell him off for being such a tease, but it is the kind of feeling that only makes you hungry for more, and you can't blame him for that.

God, you don't know how you ever lived without this. The way he's looking, he doesn't know how he did either.

He breaks away from the kiss reluctantly, and his eyes are shining, pupils black and intense.

"You ready for more?"

* * *

The ring didn't look right on your hand.

You stretched it out before you and stared down at the silver ring on your finger. You chose it together, you and Doug. He had kept on staring at you, watching you the whole time, like you were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. He'd kept on asking you that same question.

_Are you alright?_

You'd told him that you were fine, because why wouldn't you be? You were marrying the man you love. The man you'd set up a business together with. Your friend.

You'd kissed him, and it was warm, and soft. And nice. But that was it.

You knew you were being stupid. Relationships like that couldn't last. The kind of relationship where the person is your entire world, and everything you think and feel and touch and taste is them, and being apart from them feels like being physically severed.

It was toxic, and you knew that.

Every time you had kissed Brendan, it had been like you were going to die, like you both were, and that was the last kiss you had shared on earth together. Everything was heightened, and your mouths had thrashed together almost violently, like you were both desperately trying to feel the other as much as possible.

It had nearly destroyed you, being with him. You couldn't take it again. That life was over. You were proud of the person you were now.

You knew that when you answered Doug, you should have felt like you were telling the truth. You should have felt alright. You should have felt like you were flying with happiness.

You just felt numb.

What was it that Brendan had said?

_That's who I am, isn't it? Always looking around the next corner, over the horizon for something better. _

You had already found that something better beyond the horizon. The one thing you had wanted more than anything else.

Were you always going to feel this way now? Married to Doug, sharing a bed with him, and knowing that once you'd had something which had been more powerful than anything, even your own common sense?

When you heard that Brendan has left for Dublin, you feel a surge of relief. You hadn't invited him to the wedding, because that would have been impossible. But you'd had a horrible vision of saying your vows and seeing him there anyway, right at the back of the crowd, those blue eyes of his shining with...something, and not being able to finish what you'd started to say.

You'd thought that maybe if you didn't have to see his face, you would forget about him.

After Cheryl told you, you made your excuses to leave her flat. You had a wedding in two hours, and you only came after she called in a flood of tears, telling you that Brendan had done a runner.

You had taken your coat and began to do it up, your eyes travelling over to the sofa.

You remembered a summers day that felt like a lifetime ago, when things had been so much more complicated, but yet were so much simpler.

You remembered a man's voice telling you to give him another chance. That everyday until he was in his grave you'd be in his head. That he wanted you, and he wanted you to want him too.

You remembered kissing him, and pushing him against the wall with the depth of your feelings for him, and both of you collapsing to the floor, and making love there. Because that's what it felt like. _Making love. _

You had lost him afterwards. Or perhaps he had lost you. But that memory lingered on long after he was gone.

Cheryl had looked at you, and asked that same question.

_Are you alright?_

No, you had wanted to tell her. No, I'm really not okay. You had a wedding to cancel, and you didn't want to break your friend's heart.

The ring had come off you, and you'd placed it in Doug's palm. It didn't belong to you, and you realised that perhaps it never had. You'd kissed him, and he'd let you, because this was goodbye, and you take goodbyes, because sometimes it's better than nothing at all.

You had called Cheryl from the airport to get the address of the hotel. The panic had been evident in her voice. She thought you were making a mistake. You weren't entirely sure that you weren't, but you knew that this was your mistake to make.

You knew you could have called him. You imagined him picking up, and telling him that you were on your way there. Hearing in his voice whether he was horrified or whether he wanted you to come.

But you put it off. You sensed that this was something that had to be a surprise, that you had something to tell him that couldn't be relayed accurately over the phone. You had some things to put right between you and him, and you wanted to look him in the eye when you did it.

The hotel called him in his room, but there was no answer. You had arrived late, and you knew that you should probably leave it for the night, and book a bed for yourself, and leave it till morning. But you had to see him. Now that you were here, you felt the desire to be near him more than ever. Your entire body hummed with it.

You chanced that he was out somewhere. You knew what Brendan was like, working at the club till the early hours, a proverbial night owl.

You walked down a road of closed shops, scanning the pavements for him. You looked in the crowded pubs and the bars, sure that you had missed him over the throng of people.

You were about to give up and admit defeat when you saw the lights of the bridge. It didn't seem like the kind of place Brendan would go. It seemed...romantic. But something made you start walking.

It was beautiful. You couldn't deny that. The outside of The Dog was nothing compared to this. Water flowed underneath, and it was peaceful, the kind of peace that you craved sometimes.

Tourists took pictures, looking wide awake even in the early hours of the morning. You saw couples in each others arms leaning against the railings, and you wanted him more than ever then. You wanted to lean back against his chest, and feel like he would support you there forever, allowing you to stay where you most wanted to be.

Then the path cleared, and you saw him. You'd recognise him anywhere. He was wearing that coat of his that he'd had on that day he had come striding towards you in the street, offering you a shoulder to cry on when you thought your entire attempts to set up the deli had failed. He'd worn it after prison, and you'd begun to associate it with bad things happening.

Now that was gone, and you smiled, because you knew it was him, and even though you were miles away from home, you felt like you'd just arrived.

Brendan had looked at you like you were a ghost, like his mind didn't dare believe it. He looked tired, and older than you'd ever seen him, like he was suddenly exhausted by life. It made you feel inexplicably sad.

"You're here." He spoke it with a kind of awe. Like you had come to save him.

"Yeah, I'm here." You sounded like you were crying. How did that happen?

"You went away," you continued.

You didn't even know what you were saying, but you wanted him to know that you missed him. That none of this made any sense without him.

You told him then. That thing that you only felt right to say in person.

That you're done with your old life without him. That you'll be there for him, that you'll wait for him if you have to, while he fixes whatever else needs to be fixed. That you have only ever really loved him.

You thought he'd push you away again. You thought he'd run.

But he reached out, and he did that thing that you always loved, the thing that makes you melt into his touch. He cupped his hand around your cheek, and his hand was cold, but you knew it would soon warm up.

He brought you closer, but what he didn't realise is that you didn't need persuading anymore. You didn't need pulling or manipulating or begging. You are his now, gladly.

You both moved together against the railings, and you felt them digging into your back. You were so ready for him that you could have ripped his clothes off with your teeth, but you knew that there are better places to do this. Places where you could show him how much he really means to you.

You walked through the streets of Dublin together, and before you knew it you were both running, and it was a race to see who could reach the hotel first.

You tried to keep quiet and not wake anyone by smothering your voice with kisses. Your fingers grabbed onto the fur lining of Brendan's coat, and you almost tripped up the stairs in your haste to reach his room.

This is your first time naked in front of him for more than a year. You feel nervous, but at the same time, strangely calm. You know what's going to happen, and you want it. You welcome it.

Your body hasn't altered since he has last seen it. Perhaps it has got more defined, but only marginally so. He is looking at you like you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and you're not sure what you've done to deserve it.

You may not have changed, but he has. The last time you were with him like this, he wasn't much more defined that you. Prison altered him, creating new muscles where there were none before. His chest has puffed out of its own accord. You guess that if you were to lie against it now it would be rock hard, only his chest hair providing a soft surface for you to rest your head on. You remember that red shirt of his that he used to wear, the one that you first stripped off him, and how the buttons would strain against him now. It is not a bad image.

You almost compliment him on his body, but you hope that your eyes will do all the talking. You are far more interested in touching him than drinking him all in, although that holds its own kind of pleasure.

Like the way he is looking at you now, with a smile on his face that you so rarely see. You realise he is happy. Truly happy. You wonder if you have ever seen that before.

His cock is the same as you remember. It gets you hot all over just looking at it. Nothing has ever filled you or stretched you or given you as much pleasure.

You look him in the eyes and see that he is almost holding his breath, such is his anticipation.

You dart your tongue out, and he knows what you're about to do. You could swear that he moves even closer to you.

You taste him, and lick along a throbbing vein. He hardens further under your actions, and you desperately want to take him into your mouth and make him go weak at the knees in the way you remember, but you wait. The build up is half the fun.

You are surprised when his words ring through the silence, the only noise moments ago being the sound of you quietly groaning, and him trying not to give away his own arousal.

"Please, Steven."

The sincerity shocks you, and you don't want to play games with him anymore.

You open your mouth wide, like you're yawing, and take him in. It takes some adjustment, doing this again when he's so big, but you feel like you always knew that this was coming, that you'd be doing this one day with him again.

You can see his eyes closing, and you love that. You love that you can make him feel that way. It's the most powerful feeling you've ever known, that Brendan Brady wants you. That he loves you.

You want to reconnect with every part of him, so your hands find the cheeks of his arse, and you squeeze them gently while he thrusts back and forwards, fucking himself on your mouth.

You know Brendan, and you know that he will soon grow restless. That he will crave more. You are not surprised when he moves onto the bed, and you follow him there, making sure that you rub your groin against his to remind him of the things you can make him feel.

You kiss, and you wonder if he can taste himself on you. Nothing tastes like him.

You feel as light as air, and ready for more. You ask him if he is too, and he looks at you as if wondering how you could ever doubt that he would be.

"Lie down on the pillow, Steven."

You switch positions so that you are in his place, and you wonder what will be his next move.

Will he suck your cock?

He encourages you to bend your legs.

He laughs. "Flexible."

You grin at him, and he raises your legs so that he has the perfect view of your hole.

Oh. He's going to do _that. _

You feel like you're glowing all over with perspiration and excitement, and you try to keep in position for him.

He runs his hands up and down your legs, and you feel the hair there stand on end at his touch. You wish that you could say you don't torn into a hormonal teen at the mere feel of his skin against yours, but you do. Your whole body invites him in, like you're buzzing with it, like you're on some kind of drug. It's embarrassing, but he makes you feel like this. Shameless. You can lose control with him.

He gives you another kiss before sitting back on his heels and staring at your entrance. You think you must look faintly ridiculous, your hole already wet and ready for him, but if he thinks this, he doesn't let it show. His own saliva is making his lips glisten. He looks alive.

No one would realise how long Brendan's tongue is if they haven't been a participant of this. It coils and twists inside of you, and you gasp the minute it goes in. You expected him to start with little licks and nibbles to your arse cheeks like he used to, but it's as though he doesn't want to wait tonight. He immediately opens you up and makes you shout out for more.

You hear the own obscene sound of your swearing, and wait for him to clamp his mouth around yours like he first did when you stayed at a hotel together. But he lets it happen, and he growls in time with your expletives.

You reach out for your cock and manage a few strokes before he bats your hand away and does it for you. It's uncoordinated and clumsy when coupled with his own actions on your hole, but nothing has felt so good in a year.

Brendan made you discover how sex could be for the first time. _Real_ sex, the kind that you couldn't have with Amy and Rae. It wasn't the same with them. They didn't push and pull at your insides, tearing them apart in the most delicious of ways.

You look at the ceiling and try not to get swept away by what's being done to you. You want to make it last, but you feel the familiar sensations of your orgasm about to overtake you.

"Bren..." You're panting now. "I'm going to..."

He releases his hand from around your cock, and his tongue from your entrance. You don't know whether to voice your disappointment or wait to see what he's going to do next. You trust him completely now.

He bounds off the bed and reaches into a drawer. It's funny seeing him like this again, his cock erect against his stomach, unashamed and yours to enjoy.

He brings a condom over to you, and you can't help but wonder why he's been carrying it around in his wallet. You know it's the sensible thing to do, that he's only being responsible, but your stomach twists anyway.

You don't like the thought of him with anyone else. Seeing him and Eoghan together stayed with you long after your eyes first saw it, although you knew you had no claim on him.

Brendan leans forward and rubs his nose against yours, and the gesture is so tender that you wonder if he's read your mind.

You watch transfixed as he slips the condom onto his cock, and you run your hands along his chest, mapping out his muscles with your fingertips.

You can't wait to lick along every inch of him and claw at his back, but he is desperate to be inside you now. You can tell, you can read that look on his face that you came to memorise.

There is all the time in the world for that later. Hours and days to be spent in bed, loving each other in one of your favourite ways.

He's on top of you now, and he holds your ringless finger in his hands, and he smiles.

You can almost hear what he's saying.

_Is this it?_

You smile back.

_Yeah. This is it._


End file.
